In Russia, In Love
by idealskeptic
Summary: Alice Brandon is an up-and-coming fashion designer who gets to present her collection at Moscow Fashion Week. She's assigned a guide named Demetri who shows her much more than just fashion week in the ancient city. Art, history, food, his grandparents... he shows her everything. It only takes a week, but love in Russia is something Alice finds easily. AH.


**I don't own this, I'm only playing.**

**A note: **This was a birthday fic for someone and she requested **Alice & Demetri **so I present to you… some Alice & Demetri…

* * *

**In Russia, In Love**

Alice Brandon shivered as she stepped out of Sheremetyevo International Airport in Moscow and looked around for the person who was supposed to be her escort. She had no idea what he, or she, looked like and she was getting paranoid that she'd missed him inside the airport. After nearly two days of traveling across the United States and Europe, to spend as little of her limited bank account on flights as possible, she was exhausted and thought it very possible that she might have missed a sign with her name on it among the Cyrillic letters that were quickly overwhelming her.

"Miss Brandon? Alice Brandon?"

She spun around and her eyes focused on her name in black letters on a white sign. Cursing her lack of height, she looked up at the man who'd said her name. His carefully arranged hair was what her artistic mind decided was cinnamon colored; reddish brown with subtle hints of blond, and his angular features gave him a timeless sort of look that put his age anywhere between twenty and fifty. "I'm Alice Brandon," she said when she'd forced her mind to work properly.

"I am Demetri Markov. I am your guide and escort during Fashion Week here in Moscow." He spoke what would have been flawless English if he'd only used contractions. "You are staying for the entire week, yes?"

"Yes. Were you waiting for me inside? I didn't see you."

He shook his head. "No, my instructions were to meet you outside of the airport." He glanced at the two suitcases on the pavement beside her and raised an eyebrow. "You are a fashion designer and you have only two bags?"

"Yes, and no," she said, laughing when he looked confused. "My sponsors had me send my other things ahead. These are my personal clothes and other items so, yes, that's all I flew to Moscow with. Are we going to my hotel now?"

"Yes. You will stay at the Golden Apple Boutique Hotel. I stay there also, in a different room, of course." He picked up one bag and pulled the other along on its wheels. "Follow me, please. My car is in this lot."

He had a Mercedes, and that surprised Alice because she was only showing her designs at Fashion Week because she won a contest hosted by _Vogue_. She expected to be relegated to creepy cab drivers and the Russian equivalent of a fleabag motel. A sexy escort, a Mercedes, and what would turn out to be a modern, edgy, recently updated hotel were all very pleasant surprises that made her worry there was some mistake. She was too tired to ask questions just yet, though, so she sat in the passenger seat of the car and gazed out the window in wonder as they drove past the Kremlin and St. Basil's Cathedral.

"You would like a tour of the city sights, yes?" Demetri asked when he noticed how quiet and awestruck she seemed to be. "I can show you all the best museums, galleries, night clubs, shops, restaurants. Whatever you would like most to see, just ask and I will take you there."

"What about where the locals go?" she said, turning to look at him. "That's my favorite part of traveling to new places, even if I do like the history of the city."

"The true history of a city is where the locals go. I was born and raised in the Arbat District and my mother and father still live there. Arbat Street is becoming more of a tourist destination but it is also one of the oldest surviving streets in the city so it is the most important street, if you ask me."

"That sounds like just the place for me," Alice said firmly. "You'll take me there?"

"Absolutely. If you like, I will even take you to my parents' house and give you a proper Russian meal." Demetri smiled as he parked the car in the garage beneath the hotel. "You cannot go where the locals go more than that, can you?"

She agreed with him completely and followed him into the hotel. He bypassed the bellboy and waved a card at the concierge who passed him two more cards before letting Demetri lead Alice to the elevator. He deposited her in a small suite on the third floor and made sure she had his cell phone number, telling her that he would be on the second floor and she should call the moment she wanted or needed anything.

After sleeping for ten hours straight and managing to wake up in time for breakfast, Alice made her first request of Demetri. "I need to eat something before I go dress my models," she announced boldly when he appeared at her door. "What do Russians eat for breakfast?"

"It is called _zavtrak_," he informed her, "not breakfast. For _zavtrak _I think you would like to have _kasha_, which is a porridge, _tvorog_, which is sort of like American cottage cheese, toast, and tea. If you would like those things, I will take you to an excellent restaurant near the heart of Fashion Week."

It sounded perfect and she told him so. While they ate, he asked her a hundred questions about what she liked and what she didn't like, and explained it was all meant to help him put together the ideal itinerary for showing around what he called 'his city.' He asked if she would be spending the majority of her time at the other fashion shows of if she wanted most of her visit to be blocked out for being a simple tourist.

"Simple tourist. I actually only got tickets to two other shows and my flight doesn't leave for eight days. I've got an expense account though, so I want to see everything you can cram into the week." She swallowed the last of her tea and leaned forward. "Is this really all you have to do this week? Chauffeur me around Moscow and cater to my every whim?"

"Indeed it is," he confirmed. "It is not a job a dread, Miss Brandon."

She shook her head and exhaled deeply as she let herself get lost in his green eyes. "Please, call me Alice."

"Alice it is." He offered her his hand as he got up from the table and kissed her hand when she put it in his. "Allow me to make Moscow your wonderland."

* * *

For not having a drop of vodka for the first three days in Moscow, because that's when she needed to be on her game for Fashion Week, Alice felt absolutely drunk on Russia. With Demetri to guide her, the modern city and the ancient culture come to life in one beautiful picture.

She found the perfect models for her designs and won the prize for best new international collection.

And then she had nothing more to do besides let Demetri show her the country he loved so much.

He took her photo as she stood in Red Square and watched, offering soft advice as she sat in the square and sketched St. Basil's Cathedral, he used connections he had with the _Duma _to take her on a private, VIP tour of the Kremlin, he followed her as she took in every inch of Russian fine arts at the Galleria Tret'jakov, and he took her to an Orthodox service at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior.

He took her to his parents' and she ate traditional Russian food, lovingly cooked by his grandmother, until she was more than a little concerned that the seams in her hand-stitched clothes would burst. Then he offered to take her for the weekend to his family's _dacha_, which he explained was a summer home, on the banks of the Volga near Nizhny Novgorod.

A part of Alice's brain, after years of the 'don't talk to strangers' lectures, told her that going to a fairly remote dacha in a place where she didn't speak the language was not something she should do. A bigger part of her brain said she wanted very much to see the Russian countryside, even more than she wanted to shop in the city.

Her attention was diverted away from her mental debate when Demetri's grandmother tugged on his elbow and said something to him.

"She said she will come with us, as a chaperone," he told Alice. "If that makes it easier for you to decide."

"I want to go," she said, mildly surprising even herself. "When do we leave?"

"_Babushka_ has things at the dacha so we will take her to the hotel to gather your things and then we will go. Unless you would rather we wait until morning?"

Alice shook her head quickly. "No, I want to spend as much time there as possible. If you and your grandmother, your _babushka_ want to leave tonight, we'll leave tonight. Is it a long drive?"

He shrugged and sloughed off what turned out to be a nearly seven hour drive that ended with them arriving at the dacha at three in the morning. Because they were somewhat close to the Arctic Circle, it was already starting to get light. Demetri's grandmother hurried off to bed, but the neither Demetri nor Alice were tired enough to sleep just yet so they went for a walk to watch the last of the sunrise on the river's edge.

"Are you cold?" Demetri asked as they stood on a small wooden bridge.

"No." She turned for face him and got distracted by the old wooden church on the horizon line. "After we sleep, I can come back here and draw, right?"

"_Da_," he agreed. "Whatever you like, Alice. Just know that we will sleep then surely eat. She will make sure of it. She will make sure too that we sleep just long enough that we will be able to sleep again at the proper time. We know how to do this here."

"Good, because my internal clock makes no sense whatsoever," she laughed as they walked back to the small house.

Alice slept soundly for three hours and woke up before Demetri's grandmother came for her. She lay on the small bed in the small room and stared out the window at the expansive blue sky. She'd come to Russia to show her clothes and make her name in fashion on the international stage, and she'd done that. She hadn't come to Russia to fall in love, but she'd done that. And so long as Demetri didn't introduce her to a wife that could be a Bond Girl, she was okay with it all.

* * *

"Your fingers," Demetri said as he sat beside her on a bench outside Voznesensky Cathedral and watched her draw, "they are not cold?"

She shook her head, her tongue peaking from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on getting the onion domes just right on the page. "Drawing makes my blood flow properly," she explained. "I can't be cold when I'm creating. I said you could wait in the café across the street if you're cold. You're the one who insisted on staying with me."

"My _babushka_ would not be pleased if I left a lady unprotected," he said with a quick nod. "Besides, I do like to watch you draw, especially the way you draw my country."

"Are you a creative soul or just the most attentive tour guide in the history of the world?" she asked him.

"I try to write stories about what I see, but it is not easy to make money writing so I show people what I see. Then I write stories about them sometimes."

Alice turned and looked at him intently. "Will you write a story about what you showed me?"

Demetri shook his head. "_Nyet_. I will write a story about what you saw."

"You should come to America," she said boldly. "I'll show you my country and you can write stories about what you see there."

"I hope you mean that because I very much want to come to America and see that country. You would be my tour guide?"

"Yes. I'm from Mississippi so I'd be the best tour guide in the south, along the Gulf of Mexico. In some places, the more rural areas, it's a lot like it is here. You'd like it."

"I will like it," he corrected her confidently. "Are you certain you are not cold?"

Alice laughed and stuffed her drawing materials into her bag. "Alright, I am cold now. Let's go see if your grandmother made more _borshch_."

The old woman had indeed left a pot of the beet and potato soup on the small stove in the dacha, along with a note that she was going to visit friends in town and would probably spend the night. Demetri translated all of her words for Alice, even the part where she warned him not to dishonor the family by taking advantage of the sweet American girl.

"Was dishonoring me in your plans?" Alice asked as she helped herself to soup.

"Honestly? The thought had crossed my mind," he admitted. "Not dishonoring you or my family, though, just that I would very much like to do whatever you might be willing to do."

She lied to herself and told her the heat she felt in her cheeks was from being outside and then inside, over a hot pot of soup. "You're very honest, Demetri," she said, keeping her back to him. "I like that."

She turned the tables while they ate their soup and asked him as many questions as she could think of about growing up in Russia, about the things he loved, and the things he dreamed of. When they finished, he volunteered to clean the dishes and the small kitchen so Alice went and took a bath. She pulled on a short nightgown when she was done and left the bathroom.

She found Demetri sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames as if he could see an entire world there. She sat down beside him and watched the same flames for a minute while she summoned the courage to do what she'd decided to do while she was in the bathtub.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek and, when he turned in surprise, she kissed his lips.

"I don't understand," he murmured, leaning back just a little.

"I thought you wanted to do whatever I was willing?" she said as she cupped her hands to his face. "I'm willing to do this."

He let go of any inhibitions then, and pulled her onto his lap so he could better reach her body.

She felt him harden beneath her and she squirmed so that she was facing him, straddling him and ensuring that his cock was pressed tantalizingly close to her center.

"American girls do not wear panties?" he breathed in her ear as he nuzzled her neck.

"Not ones who have sexy Russian boys wanting and willing to do whatever they want," she murmured back as her hips bucked to create the friction she wanted very badly to have between her wet center and his hard length.

"At least you are the one dishonoring me." He pushed up the hem of her nightgown and ran his hands over the bare skin of her back, leaving trails of fire in the wake of his fingertips. "Luckily, I am just fine with being used and dishonored. Do what you will, Miss Brandon."

With his permission in mind, she grabbed his hands and moved his arms off her body so she could yank the sweater over his head. She let him do what he wanted with his hands then, and wrapped her arms around his neck as she pushed herself up on her knees so that she could reach everything she needed to reach better.

"Stand up, just for a moment," he said. When she did, pulling her nightgown off, Demetri got a little distracted staring at her naked body outlined only by the light of the fire but he righted himself and shed his pants, leaving his own body as naked as hers.

Alice very nearly fell back into his lap, slowing only to slide down until her was as far inside of her as he could ever be. She held her breath while her body adjust and then wrapped her arms around him again.

"No foreplay?" he asked breathlessly as he waited for her to make the first move.

"Why bother?" she breathed into his neck as she started to rock her hips against his. "I know whatever we do will be amazing enough that we won't miss it. Besides, I like to play in between."

He said what she believed was the Russian version of 'fuck, yeah' and moved his hips in rhythm with hers.

In no time at all, they knew every nook and cranny, every curve and ridge, every part of each other. They learned it all even though the impassioned frenzy they were moving in clouded their minds to anything but each other and what they wanted from the other one.

Alice felt the coiling begin in her core as her breath stopped it's deep, rhythmic pattern and became short, uneven gasps of need and longing. Demetri's thrusts stuttered and skipped as he tried to wait it out and come with her.

Before Alice could register what was happening, he held onto her, keeping her impaled on his cock and rearranged their bodies so that she was lying on her back on the floor and he was on top of her and supporting his weight on his elbows.

She noticed the pillow under her head and laughed breathlessly. "You've done this before."

"Is that a problem?" he whispered huskily in her ear. "We can stop."

She shivered in his arms. "No, no, no," she hummed, digging her nails into his back to make her point. "That would be dishonorable, honey, very dishonorable."

He reached back and tugged her leg up, telling her without words to raise her legs around his waist. "Then we shall do our very best to honor you. Please relax and enjoy," he murmured, nipping at her ear.

Relaxation was not something Alice saw herself doing any time soon so she focused all her attention on enjoying.

She came apart in his arms, shuddering violently as he cupped his hand behind her head and held her close to him as he found his release.

When their bodies stilled and their breathing slowed to satisfied gasps, Demetri laid her down on the pillow and moved to lie next to her, pulling a soft quilt from the sofa over their naked, glistening bodies.

"_Ya lyublyu Rossiyu_," Alice sighed happily as she snuggled into his muscular arms.

Demetri laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her temple. "You love Russia? What do you love about Russia, my Mississippi girl?"

"The shopping, the food, the culture, the history, the men, and," she turned onto her side and rested her chin on his chest, "and of course the sex. It was very honorable, by the way."

He laughed louder and stared into her blue eyes. "You Southern belles do have a strange definition of honor, if I may say so. However, I am glad that you like all things about Russia."

"You say you're a writer, but you need to read up on Southern belles," she teased. "We have our own definition of honor, strange though it may seem. Anyway, how long do you think we have before your grandmother, your babushka, comes back?"

"Plenty of time," he assured her, pulling up and kissing her again.

For Alice, the second time was even better than the first, even if they did stay right there on the floor. She fell asleep in his arms after that and didn't wake up until he feathered the right side of her face with kisses.

"She will be back soon," he murmured. "We should get up, get dressed, that sort of thing."

They did so reluctantly and even made Demetri's grandmother her favorite breakfast to waylay any suspicions she might develop over stolen honor. When she got back, trudging through the thin layer of snow, she looked around the dacha and sighed.

Alice waited expectantly for Demetri to translate.

"She knows," he said sheepishly. "She at least guesses. Either way, she said she will let me go to America with you if you promise to bring me back to Russia. We should ignore her."

She was a little flustered by how fast things seemed to be moving, but that didn't mean she was opposed to the speed. "Tell her I feel like a part of my soul belongs in Russia," she instructed him, looking at the old woman as she said it. "Tell her that I will always come back to Russia, with or without you."

He spoke quickly to his grandmother and the old woman hugged Alice tightly, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I left out the 'without you' part," he admitted shamelessly.

Against everything she'd ever been taught, she didn't care. She believed in love at first sight now and she didn't plan to let it go.

* * *

Demetri took her back to Moscow two days later, leaving his grandmother at the dacha to wait for his parents to come for a vacation.

Alice took a long time packing up the things she'd left at the Golden Apple, mostly because she didn't want to leave Russia and she didn't want to leave Demetri.

He could have left her at the airport to wait for her flight alone, but he sat in the terminal with her and held her hand. He didn't want her leave.

They promised each other that they'd meet again. Demetri planned to arrange to get a tourist visa to visit the United States by June at the latest and Alice was already wondering when she could find a reason to visit Russia again.

She cried when he kissed her goodbye.

And when she was on the plane; bound for Istanbul, Berlin, London, and New York before she got home to Biloxi, she pulled out that small sketch she'd made of him as he'd tended the flowers in the garden behind the dacha. Her longing for him was painful already.

She knew she wouldn't be able to take it for very long.

**The End**

**Did you like it? I sure hope so! Please do leave me a review! And no, before you ask (because someone always does), I won't be continuing this (see that "The End" there). It is what it is... for better or for worse. **

**xo**


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